Do the Asking
by Audrey Writes
Summary: UK version of The Office. Right after Dawn has kissed Tim in front of everyone at the Christmas party. Pretty much only some words from within the pink bubble they must be in at that particular moment...


**Do the Asking**

„What… um… what was it that just happened in there."

Tim is aware that he must look as confused and dazed as he feels, but he stumbles on. He must know.

"I mean, did it mean what I think it meant? I mean what I hope it means? Does it? Dawn? Because everything else would be mean. It really would be. And I wouldn't-"

"Tim."

It's her big eyes taking him into focus, the first time that there is not even a hint of evasion. Dawn looks right at him, straight in his eyes, and his heart bumps against his rip cage, causing the most incredible feeling of ridiculously happy nausea. And that's when he knows. She's there. Dawn is really here. For him. She's back from America. For good?

His name sounds strange pronounced like that. No, Dawn has not picked up an American accent in the last three years, thank you very much, it's what swings underneath. There is tenderness, when she says his name. There might even be… love.

Is there?

He has to know.

"Was that your way of asking me?"

She smiles her shining shy smile which makes his knees tremble like mad. Nothing new there. The familiar feeling works in his favour and brings his courage back. Somehow. The courage of the desperate. Or his need to know where he stands because he cannot bear to nurture this kind of hope rush to the head and heart and delay the suffering of disappointment a simple second longer.

He tries to make his voice sound a bit more solid and determined. He is not man to be trifled with. At this point, at least.

"Well, was it?"

Damn the croaking. The 'Well' start went well. A bit.

"What are you talking about?"

"What am I… you are asking me what I am talking about?"

Dawn could have punched him in the stomach.

It has happened. The worst dreadful nightmare has come true. He overestimated the situation – again. This must be a genetic kind of error in his system. He has been born an overestimator. His parents must take the blame. There must be a hereditary problem running through this family history and no-one told him about it so that he would be prepared, saving him the same humiliation again and again and again. Third time. Keith must be something like an oracle. This is the most terrible, gut-wrenching evening of his life. He is dead. He is lost. He is…

… kissed.

By Dawn.

Beautiful, wonderful, much-too-long-been-away Dawn. His Dawn. His.

She stops. Her forehead touches his. She captures him in her dreamlike aura of intoxicating perfume and simple existence, making a Slough boy going romantic in his head, and then:

"Idiot. What do you think? That I told Lee to leave and kissed you in front of all those monkeys just to have a good laugh?"

"No, you wouldn't."

"No, I wouldn't."

"No, you wouldn't do that."

"Indeed, I wouldn't."

"No, you-"

"Stop that!"

He does.

"Say it again, will ya?"

"What?"

"That… when we came out here."

"What?"

She seems to be puzzled. Then the ray of sunshine appears again on her face.

"Tim."

He is an utter, seriously damaged mess on the inside. He has probably been made addicted to his own name in a microsecond. He is pathetic and an egotist and a moron, but he also is…

"Tim."

"Well, that… um… sounds all right."

"Do you think so?"

"Well, yeah, you could say that."

"Good."

He smiles as well.

"Good."

They both smile like two twats in unison. They must have been made for each other.

"I-"

"Mmh?"

"Could I… would you…"

"Sure."

Her smile brightens impossibly and he can feel the giggle running through her body. This is how close she stands to him right now, and this is the rightest moment of his life. He is quite a daredevil, isn't he? Riding the hell rooster. From worst to rightest. He can take curves, ups and downs, he really can. She kisses him again.

Dawn is his now, right? He can do anything now. He is Tim. He can tell her.

"I love you."

The giddy surprise in her eyes makes his stomach warm like boiling water. The trembling of his knees increases.

"Still?"

She really has the nerve to ask. As if this isn't embarrassing enough to be in love with someone who has rejected you twice and then went away with her fiancé to Florida to never come back. Three years, for God's sake!

"Never more."

God, he is such a sap!

She exhales, making a sound between relief and sigh. Tim can't believe that she is really insecure. If she knew, how he feels about her she would rather be running. This feeling inside him can't be healthy, but she really is all he cares about. She always has been. And now it feels as if, with the landing of her plane, she has brought all the colours back to Slough. Her being here makes it painfully plain to see how incredibly hopelessly dull his life has been during the last three years. Why, life is quite a strong word actually.

"I'm so glad. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I am not so bad."

Her smile wants to be back, but still lacks confidence.

"Took me too long."

He can't bear to see her unhappy. Never could. Probably never will. Hopefully never again will have to!

"Long. Not too long. It's… okay. I am just so happy you got it. I love you. Bugger. Sorry, I cannot stop telling you."

"Don't try."

"No?"

"No. Say it again."

There's the sunshine again. Thank God.

"I love you."

"Tim."

Bloody hell. There are goosebumps all over him. Is he a spotty teenager or what? Better warn her…

"Will kiss you again now."

"Please do."

"Yeah. Love you."

Tim leans in, while telling her a fourth and fifth time. His lips touch her nose, her cheekbones, her lovely, lovely eyes.

"Tim."

She whispers.

"Mmh?"

"I love you, too."

And then he kisses her with a little more fervour, in fact loses it a bit. But that's okay. Dawn is not really at her most composed self.

When the voice worms its way into their awareness and interrupts them, it's too late to escape.

"Thought I might find you here."

Gareth. Please, God, no!

"Just checking if anything inappropriate is happening. It's company site, you know."

Tim stares at his boss incredulously, who cackles his most creepy laugh.

"You are _so_ not welcome right now."

"That's a free country. I can go wherever I want – plus, I am the regional manager of-"

"Gareth, shut up."

"But-"

"No, really, shut up. This is the moment I have - obviously for everyone in Britain watching this shitty documentary - been waiting for all of my life and I simply refuse to have you in it. I don't want you be part of it. Is that understood?"

"That's illogical."

"And why is that."

Tim rolls his eyes and he hates it how he seems to be incapable of not letting himself be drawn in these nonsensical, highly nerve-wracking discussions with this utterly insane twit. The only thing that keeps him going is Dawn at his side, obviously suppressing a giggle.

Gareth thinks he has the upper hand.

"'Cause – obviously, I am already part of it."

Tim inner anti-Gareth-child needs air.

"No, you aren't."

"Sure, I am. I am here. You will always remember when you tell your kids that Gareth Keenan was there, when their daddy got lucky and the girl. By the way, will you tell them the whole story?"

"What story?"

"How Dawn dumped you twice before letting you in?"

"She didn't dump me."

"Well, of course you are right. That was the wrong word. To be dumped you have to be together before."

"Please go."

"It's never easy to listen to the truth."

"Go."

"Allright. Allright. Heavens. Dawn, if I was at your place-"

Tim almost shouts.

"… which you arent't!"

Gareth ignores him demonstratively and makes the effort to repeat himself.

"If I was at your place, I definitely would think about hopping from one unbalanced relationship into another. Especially, if the new boyfriend shows obvious signs of mental-"

"Gareth, I've never hit you before, but…"

There must be something in Tims voice getting trough, and very unsoldier-like Gareth holds up both hands and simply shakes his head slowly and sadly, before he retreats in the shadows of Wernham-Hoggs.

Tim and Dawn need exactly 42 seconds to forget, he ever was there with them. Dawn caresses his brow with her finger.

"Did you say anything to the film crew about your feelings?"

"Well… nooouuuuyyes."

"What?"

"Yes, well, you could say, I did."

"What did you say?"

"That I still have feelings for you. That I thought I could get over you by not seeing you, but that it was a kind of shock when Gareth told us you came. Obviously. Seems I am kind of a masochistic pervert when it comes to admitting my innermost emotions in public. In front of a camera."

"And?"

"I said I wouldn't ask you again."

"And?"

"That you would have to do the asking."

"And?"

"You did."

"I did?"

"Got your man all right, didn't you?"

"Did."

There is no way around another kiss. Kissing session. Smooching…. god, he won't be able to survive, if this will ever be taken from him again.

"Tim?"

Against his lips. Thanks to heaven, he is not the only one not being able to stop.

"Mmh?"

"Want me to do it properly?"

"Mmh?"

"Do the asking?"

He pulls away a bit, puzzled for a second, but then he understands.

"Of course. I insist. Fire away."

She pulls back as well as possible without forcing them to release of each others arms.

"Tim Canterbury, will you go out for a drink with me and, after an appropriate period of time, be my boyfriend, and then…"

"And then?"

"Move in with me."

"Will you stay in Slough? Because – I must tell you this – I am deeply rooted in this city, there's nowhere I can go and be happy."

She will never be as good as he is in not showing she's cracking up.

"I'll be where you are."

He can be solemn as hell when he chooses, no matter what kind of salsa party takes place right between his two lower rips. He draws her closer and puts his nose in her neck for a very quiet, heart-pounding moment, feeling her fingers threading through his hair. This is the most surreal real. He hears her whisper again. Against his hair, making his scalp tingle with pleasure.

"Sounds like a plan, Mr. Canterbury."

"Right."

He continues to mumble in her neck. She against his hair.

"I'm quite good, don't you think?"

"In what?"

"Doing the asking."

He snorts and looks up, eyes alight.

"'Cause I've got the much better answers than you have."

She has gotten over it, almost. She can take the joke already. Just getting a tiny bit red.

"That you have."

"I do by the way."

"What?"

"Go for a drink, be your boyfriend, move in with you. All still tonight, if possible."

"Anything is possible."

"Hoped you'd say that."

"I do, too."

"What?"

"The answer is yes."


End file.
